The Postman is Evil and he Wants to Recruit Me
by TheLateNightStoryteller
Summary: A two-parter set during their time at the Academy. Fitz is convinced that the postman is trying to recruit him into Hydra but he has no proof and no one, not even Simmons, will believe him.
1. Part 1

This story takes place near the end of Fitz and Simmons first year at the Academy.

Agents of SHIELD belongs to its superhero creators and ABC and Marvel :D. They get a hazah for making this show, seriously it's the best.

I posted this in two chapters because it was really long and I figured it was easier to read that way. This way if you want to read part of it one day and the next part another or something you can without having to scroll through one big block. (It's an experiment so please feel free to tell me if I am wrong on this, I just know what I find easier.)

/-/-/

* * *

The Postman was evil, he was sure of it. Simmons didn't believe him, she hadn't seen it yet, but she would.

It started a few months ago, near the beginning of his second semester. His friendship with Simmons was spring-leaf new, a flower budding through the mid-January snow. What a gorgeous flower it had turned out to be, his favourite flower, colourful and sweetly scented like lilacs. Simmons had blossomed in his heart and become his best friend in the entire universe (he was counting Asgardians and the like in this too) and, even though she was wrong about the postman, he still thought she was the smartest person in the Academy, perhaps even the smartest person in the entire world (she'd chide him for his imprecision if she ever knew he thought that, there was no way to accurately measure it, but he was sure it was true).

He was getting off track though. It all started at the end of February.

/-/-/

February 28, 2006

Simmons was suppose to meet him at his dorm but she was late because of the snowstorm. It was bloody cold but still not cold enough for him to wear that hat she'd knitted him. He didn't have the heart to tell her, but Simmons knit about as well as Hermione Granger did when she was making hats for those house elves. And unlike Dobby he wasn't obsessed enough with clothes to wear it anyway.

The postman said his name was Joe (a likely story) and struck up a conversation with Fitz. At the time, it had seemed innocent enough, but looking back Fitz realized he'd been scoping him out.

He knew Fitz was a student at the Academy (even the postman there had top level security clearance, he handled some sensitive documents. Couldn't anyone see how that that was a serious problem?!) and he asked Fitz what he was working on. He and Simmons were working on micro-drones with the ability to crawl across the surface of liquid water, light enough to be held up by the surface tension, but he wasn't going to tell a complete stranger that, so he made up a fanciful story about a gun that shot giant balls of sticky goo at enemies (which agents Lincoln and Dunham actually created a prototype for the next week, they must have overheard him and stolen his fake idea, the pricks.) 'Joe' then asked him about his grades and was impressed at how high they were. He said Fitz had a bright future ahead of him and wondered if he'd ever considered working for anyone other than SHIELD.

"You mean like NASA or the CIA?" he'd asked, confused.

'Joe' had smiled at him and replied. "Something like that."

Warning sign number 1.

Fitz had casually answered no, unaware of the postman's sinister intentions.

/-/-/

March 7, 2006

Over the next couple of weeks, 'Joe' had met up with Fitz almost every day. 'Accidentally' running into him each morning when he delivered the post and asking him questions about his work and his progress. Interrogating him actually.

"So are you still working on that goo-gun?" He asked that chilly spring morning, grinning as he handed Fitz his mail (a letter from his mum and a coupon for the new shawarma restaurant down the street, he'd have to take Simmons sometime, it was two for one).

"Nah, we've moved on," Fitz told him absentmindedly, going through the menu.

"Oh, to what?" he inquired cheerfully, foot darting between the door and the frame as Fitz tried to close it.

He shifted his attention from the food to the postman. "Er... we're still brainstorming," he replied, uncomfortable. The man was nosier than... a nose. A nosy nose at that.

"Need any ideas smarty-pants?" he kidded, winking.

"We have a few assignments on the go at the moment," he let him know uneasily, unsure as to exactly how secret the man's secret security clearance went. Was he actually allowed to be asking these things?

"Anything interesting?" he pressed, keeping his wide grin.

"Not really," Fitz admitted. First year assignments weren't challenging enough for him and Simmons. It was the reason they had side projects, the reason agent Weaver was considering moving them ahead a year.

"Well maybe it's time to jump ship then," he suggested, winking again and Fitz caught a flash of a tattoo as he swiftly pulled up his sleeve. It looked like an octopus or maybe a squid? Something with several tentacles. Were those heads on the end of them?

"I'm happy here," he said firmly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm having company and I need to clean up."

"Of course, you'll want to look nice for that lady friend of yours." Yet another wink. Did this man have a winking compulsion or something?

"We're just friends actually," he let him know quickly, ears a deep shade of red.

In hindsight, that should have set off a cacophony of alarm bells in Fitz's head. The shady man had Simmons in his sights, Simmons. The poor thing was so sweet and friendly she'd probably get into his tinted-windowed black van if he told her there was something mutated to dissect. She'd probably think that that was where all the blood splattered across the walls of the vehicle had come from.

Even at the time he found it strange and had decided to warn her about 'Joe', just in case he set his nosy nose after her too.

/-/-/

March 14, 2006

"I'm telling you Simmons, he's too friendly," Fitz insisted, flipping the pages of the Simmon's textbook The History of SHIELD. (His was somewhere under a sour smelling pile of laundry which was shoved beneath his and embedded with air-fresheners.) It had to be in here somewhere.

"Some people are just friendly Fitz," she told him dismissively before taking another bit of her shawarama. "This is delicious," she added, smiling warmly at him. "It was very nice of you to get me one too."

He nervously eyed the stack of paper on his dresser which hid his small army of coupons. He'd gotten one every day since the start of the month. The shawarmas were excellent, but the man who sold them was almost as pesky as 'Joe' and Fitz had decided he was going to start throwing them away. He couldn't tell Simmons though, she wouldn't understand.

"Yeah... good," he replied slowly. "But they're bloody expensive," he improvised.

"How much were they?" she inquired, sounding guilty. Damn it, now she was going to feel bad. He needed to work on his on-the-spot lies.

"You don't need to worry about it," he assured, smiling cheerfully. "I'm happy to treat you. We'll just go someplace else from now on OK?"

"Alright," she smiled back. "Thank you Fitz, that's very sweet of you."

Now he felt guilty.

His guilt was soon forgotten, however, scattered like dandelion seeds on a windy day, when he flipped to the next page of the textbook and found what he had been searching for.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "That's it! That's what 'Joe' has on his arm." His hands drew air quotes as he spoke the postman's name.

"Fitz I'm sure Joe is his actual name," Simmons sighed, setting down her (actually very cheap) shawarma onto her plate and moving to see what he was looking at.

"Hydra?" she asked sceptically. "You think Joe is part of Hydra?" She laughed, "Fitz, Hydra is gone. They fell over half a century ago."

"Then why does he have a tattoo of one on his arm?" Fitz demanded, annoyed that she didn't believe him.

"It was a Greek myth before they took it to use as their symbol," she pointed out reasonable, tilting her head at him and raising her eyebrows like he was being silly. "Does Joe's tattoo have a skull in it?"

"No," he admitted grudgingly. "But Simmons he's nosy. He won't stop asking questions."

"He's probably just being friendly," she guessed (guessing wrong).

"I think he wants to recruit me," Fitz pressed. "

"Fitz that's ridiculous," she insisted.

"He's asked about you too," he fretted.

"Really? What did he say?" she wondered curiously, not at all nervous or suspicious like she should have been.

He blushed. "Oh... just... stuff..."

"What sort of stuff?" she asked conversationally.

"You know," he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Just wanted to know who you were. I told him you were my friend," he informed her, watching her reaction.

"Well that isn't right," she grinned impishly at him and his ears burned. "I thought I was your best friend," she teased to his relief (relief right?).

He chuckled at her. "I can't tell him everything," he joked, lightening at the easy humour in her expression. "He is working for the enemy."

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Eat your shawarma before it gets soggy you silly paranoid over-spender."

"The things you make me do," he jested, laughing with her.

It felt right, being around her. It made his little room at the Academy feel like home. Simmons was quickly becoming an incredibly important part of his life, but she didn't believe him about 'Joe', and he realized it was up to him to gather up the evidence against the man so he could protect his treasured friend from his dastardly plans.

/-/-/

* * *

There is a reference to the science fiction series Fringe in this story. It is the names Dunham and Lincoln. They are agents who work for Fringe Division in the other universe.

The shwarama's are kind of a reference to the last scene of the Avengers :P.

Also Fitz's opinions on things are not necessarily my own haha. (I dunno if we diverge in this story, but we do sometimes when I write him.)


	2. Part 2

_April 1, 2006_

"Heya Fitz," 'Joe' greeted, chipper as always despite the weather. It was cold for April and drizzling just enough to soak you through after a few minutes of walking outside, so the cold could creep down into your bones.

"Hey," he mumbled, attempting to seem busy as he slid his key into the slot and turned it so he could open his door.

'Joe' had been becoming increasingly bold in his suggestions in the past few weeks. He'd once even been brazen enough to ask Fitz if he 'really thought SHIELD was the best place to apply his rare talents.'

"The world is in need of skills like yours," he'd said. "Wouldn't want to see you wasting them."

Of course Simmons hadn't believed him. She'd grown irritated with his constant grumblings about the postman and shot Fitz warning looks each time he brought him up. She was convinced he was being paranoid, that Joe was a 'lovely man and nothing to worry about'. If only she knew.

He hadn't told anyone else. If _Simmons _thought he was being paranoid, his teachers certainly would. He'd have to find a way to deal with 'Joe' on his own but, with final exams looming ahead and the handful of projects he needed to finish before the semester was up, he'd pushed the problem to the back of his mind.

Until that cold, gloomy, April day when everything changed. That day, it became personal.

"Here's your mail buddy," Joe chirped, winking again. (Enough with the winking, he got it, the lunatic wanted him to join his secret evil cult. It just wasn't going to happen.)

"Thanks," he muttered, hastily grabbing it and ducking inside before the man could say anything else or get his lightning fast, cheetah-muscle-enhanced, bioengineered foot between the frame and the door again.

He flipped through the mail, his mind on his latest project before a pamphlet caught his eye. One with a chillingly familiar logo in the corner. The print beneath it read: 'A better world is possible. Do _you _want to be a part of making it happen?'

If that didn't scream 'cult' he didn't know what did. Fitz dropped the rest of his mail on the table and yanked the pamphlet open, scanning the contents with increasing horror.

'...SHIELD is not what the world needs...'

'...the world is running rampant, it needs to be controlled...'

'...be a part of the new wave...'

"Oh my God, I need to show Simmons!" he exclaimed, shoving the pamphlet into his bag and darting back to the door. Now she _had _to believe him.

His phone rang, it was her, he could tell by the ring. It was their favourite song, the one they both agreed on every time when they were playing music. (Not that it was the only thing they ever played, just the only thing that never required a compromise.)

He clicked talk and held it to his ear.

"I have something to tell you," he announced anxiously, bouncing on his toes with impatience. "Where are you?"

"Fitz?" She answered and he knew immediately that something was wrong. "Can you come get me... there's been an accident."

"Are you OK?" he demanded. Oh no, they were using her to get him, he knew it. Obviously they knew they'd never be able to recruit incorruptible Simmons and had decided to use her as a pawn in their horrible plan to take over the world. "What happened?" He couldn't keep his voice from rising in panic.

"I'm fine," she assured him gently. "My vision should come back in a few hours, I just need someone to come get me, I don't think I can make it home like this."

"What?!" he screeched.

"Ow... Fitz, I'm fine," she insisted.

"Sorry," he apologized, the last thing poor Simmons needed was to have an eardrum blown out. "I'm coming."

Forgetting about the pamphlet stowed away in his backpack, he raced out the door, practically flying across the campus like a cape bearing superhero to her aid.

/-/-/

"Remember there're five steps," he reminded her worriedly, clutching onto her as she gripped his arm.

"I know," she told him. "Let's go slowly though, everything is so slippery."

"I won't let you fall," he promised.

"I know," she repeated fondly.

He helped her into her dorm and settled her down at her small table.

She'd been 'accidentally' exposed to a new gaseous compound she'd been working on, which caused temporary blindness, (SHIELD had a long list of applications for the compound upon its completion).

The effects were fleeting but Fitz still felt painful tendrils of guilt curling around his stomach. This was all his fault. He should have taken 'Joe' as a more serious threat. _Of course _he was a serious threat, he was going around recruiting people into some Nazi-derived cult. They were lucky he hadn't had her blown up.

This had to be some sort of warning, he was convinced. 'Join us or we'll hurt the people you love.'

"Do you need anything?" He fussed, hovering over her like a hummingbird around a flower. "How are you feeling? Are you sure its temporary? How long have you been testing it exactly?"

"Some soup would be nice," she said, smiling reassuringly. "Stop worrying, it'll wear off soon. I should have been more careful with the nozzle, I just didn't expect it to open so fast. It's usually harder to move, one of the other students must have fiddled with it.

'Or the postman sabotaged it,' he thought grimly, pouring some canned soup into a pot to heat up for her.

While it was cooking he returned to her and, kneeling in front of her, took both her hands in his own.

"Jemma, I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"Why are you sorry?" She wondered, bewildered. "Am I out of soup? It's nice just that you offered, you don't need to be-"

"This is my fault," he told her. "I should have taken Hydra more serious-"

"Hydra?" she questioned, surprised. "Oh Fitz, not again," she groaned. "This was an _accident. _Everything bad in the world is not Joe's fault, he's a very nice man, he talks to me all the time. Just last week he gave me a recipe for homemade brownies and the other day he gave me some advice on a problem I had with one of my lab partners. She wasn't getting along very well with me so he said to-"

"You talked to him about your work?" Fitz demanded, stunned.

"Yes," she replied impatiently. "Obviously I don't go into detail but-"

"He knows which lab you work in?" he guessed, one step closer to proving his point.

"Don't look like that, it's a coincidence," she scolded without needing to see him. "Joe wouldn't hurt a fly."

His expression of triumph changed to one of exasperation. "Fine, don't believe what I'm saying," he grumbled. "I have proof!" He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out the pamphlet, waving it in front of her.

"I can't see what you're holding up," she told him, unimpressed.

"Oh, right," he remembered, embarrassed. "It's a let's-take-over-the-world-together brochure," he described, opening it. "In order to achieve peace, threats must first be eliminated," he read. "Be a part of creating a better world."

"Joe gave you that?" she asked incredulously. "He just asked you to join Hydra and handed you a pamphlet?"

"Well, not exactly...," he admitted. "It was in my mail but..."

"Fitz..." she sighed, concerned.

"I'm not making this up!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "It's _real, _this is a real pamphlet that's really asking me to join an evil cult. Why can't you just believe me?"

"I do believe you," she soothed, feeling around in front of her. He stepped forward, allowing her to touch his arm. "I believe that you received a pamphlet in the mail with exactly what you read written in it, but Fitz what day is it?"

"That's beside the point," he muttered, pulling away.

"It's April Fools," she answered for him. "You don't think it might have something to do with that?"

"They did this to you," he asserted, determined. "That isn't a joke. Someone is trying to recruit me, someone dangerous, and they could hurt you." She couldn't see him but he looked away as he said the last part, his voice lowering to a whisper.

Her expression softened and it appeared as if she were about to say something when the dorm's fire alarm went off.

Grey puffs of smoke were erupting from the soup and he realized he'd burnt it.

"Damn stupid quick to burn noodles!" he cursed, quickly removing it from the burner before using a towel to fan the smoke away from the alarm so it would turn off. It was a good thing none of it had made it into the hallway or it would have set off the whole building.

His stomach hurt and he was incredibly frustrated and frightened. Blinding Simmons had been a strategic move on their part. She couldn't see how real the pamphlet was, how this wasn't a prank. He was always alone when Joe tried to entice him to join, dropping subtle hints which must have sounded innocent to someone who hadn't heard them first hand.

"Is everything alright?" Simmons called from the table.

"It's fine," he answered tightly, blinking away tears. "I burnt your soup though, I'll have to start a new pot." She wasn't going to believe him and he was beginning to wonder if _he _would have believed him. He had no proof except an easily explainable set of events, and a pamphlet she couldn't see.

She would see it though, her vision would come back and then he could show her. Or he could show agent Weaver and have this whole mess sorted out. Yes_,_ that was it. They shouldn't have risked giving it to him. The idiots.

He retrieved it, ready to store it safely in his backpack but his heart sank when he caught sight of the cover.

The Hydra-skull had changed to an open-mouthed happy-face, and the print on the cover now read: 'Got you'.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no, damn it." He cried, throwing it down. "Stupid, clever evil cult. This is insane! We're just scientists, we're not meant to be dealing with all this nonsense! We aren't meant to be put into these kinds of situations! We're just suppose to make things, invent new things! Our job isn't suppose to be dangerous, neither of us are suppose to get hurt or blown up or lured into bloodstained vans to be dissected!"

There were tears on his cheeks now and he angrily wiped them away.

'Stop it eyes, we're angry, not sad,' he scolded.

"Fitz," Simmons murmured, standing and stumbling towards him.

He didn't want her to trip and hurt herself, so he met her, placing his hands on her searching arms. She took another step towards him and silently wrapped him in a tight embrace.

He hesitated, unsure what to do, before he realized the wonderful, calming effect the hug was having on him and returned it earnestly.

"Is that what this is about?" She asked softly. "You're worried something bad is going to happen us? Because we're going to work for SHIELD?"

Calmer now, he thought perhaps she was right and he'd been using this whole postman problem as a substitute for his real fears. Maybe that was it, maybe this was all in his head. Another student could have easily heard his rants about Joe and decided to trick him, (they _were _freshmen after all), Joe could just be an overly friendly postman (with a giant nose) and what happened to Simmons... that could have been an accident.

"Maybe," he whispered.

She rubbed his back and he closed his eyes, leaning against her, losing himself in the blissful rhythm of her hands circling his skin.

After a minute she pulled away from him, hands on his shoulders. It was strange to see her not looking him in the face, to see her eyes drifting away, but he knew she was focusing her attention towards him and it was comforting all the same.

"Can you live with that?" she asked seriously, a question without judgement.

He considered it honestly. He'd been so scared when he'd thought someone was going to hurt them, when he'd thought someone _had_ hurt Simmons. He'd been scared but he'd also been... protective. He'd wanted to _do _something about it, to defend her, to actively work towards stopping the people responsible. That was what SHIELD was about, protecting people, keeping the world and the wonderful people in it safe. You could try to run from the things that frightened you, that attacked the people you loved, or you could fight back. He wanted to fight back.

"I can live with that," he replied confidently and she smiled at him, proud.

"So can I," she agreed and with that they were in it, together, defending the world and protecting each other. Whatever life threw at them.

/-/-/

_April 2, 2006_

_Report 33_

_Subject 13, Leopold Fitz, shows unwavering loyalty to both SHIELD and his partner Jemma Simmons. Simmons is not a viable candidate for recruitment. _

_Recruitment of subject 13 not recommended, requesting termination of monitoring assignment. _

_- Agent Arnold Brown_

/-/-/

* * *

Arnold Brown is the name of a Hydra agent from the comic books.

The whole, 'I can't see what's on the paper' was inspired by an interaction between Toph and Sokka in Avatar the Last Airbender.

The Fringe reference in this chapter is Subject 13. It is the name of a third season episode and refers to Olivia, who was subject 13 during the cortexiphan trials.

My dad actually helped me out with this one, let me bounce ideas off him :D.


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